There and Back
by bearfeathers
Summary: (Sequel to CALL AND ANSWER) Rebuilding SHIELD is hard work. Rebuilding the relationships of the people it's comprised of is, arguably, even harder.
1. Control

Though not exactly bustling, the base isn't as quiet as it had been in previous weeks, if you ask Skye. Agents slowly continue to filter in—from all ends of the Earth, it would seem. Still, of everyone that's shown up on their doorstep, there's one group in particular that's shaken the place up more than anyone else. Admittedly, Skye hadn't been all that sure about Coulson Jr. and the two Avengers, but here they are.

For better or for worse.

"Visiting again?"

She hears the voice from her left and, turning her head, greets the owner with a friendly smile. The slight, redheaded woman is—as she's come to learn—Phil's ex-wife and Andy's mother. Molly Pendergraph is one of the many people Skye is coming to find that have played a large role in their new Director's life, whether he remembers them or not.

"Well, I was taking a break from the gym and I figured I may as well," Skye answers. She watches the older woman for the length of a heartbeat before asking, "You holding up okay?"

"Oh, well enough," Molly answers, almost too lightly. "I'm just hoping we can get all of this wrapped up soon."

"Yeah, it's…" Skye says, her sentence trailing off. She shrugs a shoulder helplessly. "Jemma's doing her best."

"I'm sure of that. Andy and Jasper spoke very highly of her and Phil hasn't stopped singing her praises," Molly says with a nod. She holds a water bottle out to Skye and, seeing that she was only carrying one, Skye has to wonder if it was mere coincidence or if Molly had somehow known she'd be coming here. "I was just on my way back myself."

"Thanks," Skye says, accepting the bottle and falling in step with her fellow agent. "How'd the meeting go?"

"It was certainly interesting," Molly answers, shaking her head in something like amusement. "I have to admit, I never thought I'd see the day where Phil became the Director of SHIELD. Then again, I think most of us never thought we'd see the day when SHIELD fell either. But he seems to have an idea of where he wants to go and for now, any heading is better than none."

"You don't sound all that confident in him," Skye points out, twisting off the cap of her water bottle.

Molly frowns at that, her nose scrunching up and shifting the freckles on her face. "I wouldn't say that, exactly. Phil's got an aptitude for getting people to work together; always has. But this whole thing's got all of us turned on our heads as it is, so I suppose I'm just… concerned."

"Yeah. I get that," Skye murmurs with a nod of her head.

Skye's concerned, too. She's concerned about a _lot_ of things. She's concerned about the two ex-HYDRA agents currently under evaluation in their medical wing. She's concerned about Jemma, who had been dating one of those ex-HYDRA agents and is currently in charge of evaluating them. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. There's so much more going on since this group had arrived, she hardly knows where to start, and things had been complicated to begin with.

Arriving in medical, they're greeted by the sight of Jemma pouring over charts with a tall, dark-haired man. Molly's husband Niles is—luckily for them—a very talented neurosurgeon who had decided to throw his lot in with them. In that, Skye's thankful that Jemma hasn't had to undertake this task alone. Having to carry the weight of that responsibility alone, on top of everything she's going through right now, would have been unbearable. If it weren't for the fact that she's currently the most qualified person for the task, Skye would call her mere involvement a cruel joke.

Noticing they're no longer alone, biochemist and doctor look up from their work to offer friendly, if tired, smiles.

"I was wondering when you'd be stopping by," Jemma says.

The comment had been directed at Molly and yet Skye can't help but feel it was somehow meant for her as well. Sure, she'd been stopping by every day, but it's not like that's excessive or anything. It gives her a chance to check up on Jemma and see how things are progressing, that's all.

"Meeting just got out," Molly answers, pausing to plant a quick kiss on Niles's cheek. "How's it going today?"

"We've made some significant progress," Niles says, nodding in time with Jemma. "I think so long as we stay on this course, Andrea and Jasper should be good to go by the end of the week."

"So long as we can actually clear them," Jemma tacks on.

"Right, that," Niles agrees.

"And do you guys think that you will? Clear them, I mean," Skye prods.

The biochemist and neurosurgeon look to one another as though to engage in a conversation that no one else is privy to. Despite the fact that they don't say anything, Skye gets the feeling that a conversation was had all the same.

"I'll tentatively say that we will, in all likelihood, clear them," Niles says.

"We're simply taking every precaution we can think of," Jemma says, folding her arms over her tablet and clutching it to her chest. There's a flicker of emotion—like discomfort—over her features. "We can't afford to give anyone the benefit of the doubt, no matter who they are, unfortunately."

"Understandably," Molly says, a sympathetic smile making its way to her face. She pats Jemma on the arm consolingly, knowing just as well as anyone else that this is a very personal matter for the young woman. "Is it alright if I sit with Andy for a bit?"

"Of course," Jemma says, mustering up a brighter expression. "We've concluded our tests for the time being, so take all the time you need."

Skye watches Niles and the ways his eyes track his wife's movement towards the containment unit on the other side of the room, knowing that in some ways this is all as personal for him as it is for Jemma. After a moment, his gaze returns to them and he clear his throat, holding his own tablet aloft.

"Jemma, I'm going to run these results down to the lab to add them to our database," he says. "Why don't you take a break? You and Skye could have lunch, since I know you haven't eaten."

Skye chokes back a laugh as Jemma huffs. "It's bad enough that I have to keep Director Coulson off my back, but now I have to contend with you and your wife as well? That's truly unfair."

"Well, someone's gotta keep you kids in line," Niles says with a slight grin. "And I've had a lot of practice. But seriously, take a break. We've got all day to handle this and Molly's gonna take her time anyway."

"We'll make sure to get something to eat, then," Jemma says. She checks her watch. "Shall we meet back in… an hour?"

"Better make it an hour and a half," Niles suggests.

"An hour and a half it is," Jemma agrees.

"Alright then. See you girls later," Niles says, waving his tablet at them as he disappears through the door.

"You two seem to be getting along well," Skye says, watching Jemma rest her tablet on the nearby countertop.

"It's nice, you know, having someone who seems to know what they're doing," Jemma says. She tucks a few stray whisps of hair behind her ear. "Really, I suppose it's just nice just having anyone. I can't imagine how I would've done this alone."

"Speaking of which," Skye says, her voice dropping in volume as they walk, "how are you holding up with all of this?"

"I'm… fine," Jemma says haltingly.

Fine isn't really fine, Skye knows. Fine is just a way of saying you're constantly teetering on the edge of having a complete meltdown, but since so is everyone else and you're not having one _right now_ , you're… fine. Skye doesn't push her for details, doesn't needle her to open up. She knows what that feels like when you don't want to have to explain just what 'fine' is for you right now. If Jemma wants to talk to her, she will. And after a minute or two of silence, she does.

"He doesn't really speak to me," Jemma says suddenly. She stares down at her feet as they walk. "And as terrible as it sounds, for now, I think that might be for the best. I'm not sure what he could say that would…"

She makes a vague hand gesture, unsure of how to continue her train of thought or perhaps just unwilling to do so. Skye nods. That much, at least, doesn't need to be explained.

"Do you ever try talking to him?" Skye asks.

Jemma shakes her head. "Dr. Pendergraph has primarily been responsible for overseeing him. Likewise, I've been primarily responsible for Andy. We've done so under the mindset that it removes some level of bias from our results, but I think it's just _easier_ this way. There's just… It's all so _personal_. All of it. The intake evaluations for the others were much simpler. It was easier to clear them. With these two, with their ties to HYDRA, it's a much more delicate process."

"For what it's worth, neither of them seem to mind if you take your time," Skye informs her. She frowns, glancing up as she recalls trying to speak with the two ex-HYDRA agents. "Well, that's what I gathered from Coulson Jr., anyway. Sitwell's… not exactly chatty."

"You're not the first to say as much," Jemma says, sighing heavily. "Apparently, outside of his time with Dr. Pendergraph or visits from Coulson, he doesn't speak."

"Did Coulson pass anything on to you? Anything about what he might be saying?" Skye wonders.

"You know he wouldn't do that," Jemma replies. "Coulson views their conversations as confidential. Though I trust if anything needed to be related to the rest of us, it would be."

"I figured," Skye says with a shrug.

"At this point, I'm just hoping that we can get a definitive answer soon," Jemma sighs.

Seeing the tired slope of her friend's shoulders, seeing the dark circles beneath her eyes, Skye can only hope the same.

* * *

In the end, that definitive answer comes four days later. Strangely, though, as the small group of them sits gathered in their meeting room, very few of them seem all that thrilled with this. It's an odd mixture of the old guard and the new, and Skye can't help but feel there is a clear division in the room.

Victoria Hand sits straight-backed and intent, not a hair out of place as their meeting progresses. Her arrival had perhaps been the most surprising at all, what with how the last Skye had heard, Ward had put two rounds in her skull and left her for dead. Apparently, as she's come to find out, HYDRA wasn't the only one with access to LMD technology. They knew that if SHIELD had it, then HYDRA did as well, yet they'd failed to consider that reverse might also be true. In any case, Felix Blake's intuition had been enough to convince her to mobilize her LMD unit—for the better.

Speaking of Felix Blake, the man in question currently occupying the space right next to Victoria hardly looks like he's thrilled to be here. Skye has to wonder just why he'd decided to return to SHIELD at all. Following his encounter with Mike Peterson, permanent nerve damage had him relying on a cane for mobility on good days and a wheelchair on bad days. Looking across the table tells Skye that today is a bad day.

Molly and Niles sit side by side, the flirtatious banter than Skye's come to expect from them completely absent from the conversation. Like the others, their countenance is serious, engrossed entirely in the topic at hand.

"Our findings conclude there's no remaining trace of HYDRA's influence in either Agent Sitwell or Agent Coulson," Niles says, gesturing to the several charts and scans blown up on the screen before them. "However, while they have been cleared by myself and Agent Simmons, there will be a probationary period before either of them are permitted to return to work."

"And how long would this probationary period be?" Victoria asks, her gaze focusing on Phil.

"I've tentatively set it at two months," Phil answers. "However that can be extended or shortened as we see fit. There are still some questions in regards to physical and mental fitness on both parties."

"Additionally, Dr. Pendergraph and I will be conducting a series of tests in an attempt to document the exact ways in which Agent Coulson has been affected by the Centipede implant," Jemma adds on.

"What about removing it?" Molly asks. She looks to her husband for an answer, "Wouldn't it just be easier to find some way to get it off of her?"

Skye frowns as she watches Niles hesitate. His hands, previously folded on the table before him, begin to unfurl like a blooming flower until at last they lay nearly flat, skyward facing palms depicting his helplessness.

"From my preliminary examinations… I don't believe safely removing the implant is possible," Niles says slowly. "Because of its location along her spine and due to the way it was surgically attached, it doesn't appear there's a way to remove it without risking paralysis from the neck down. Hopefully that may change once I begin to study the implant further, but at this point it can't be done."

As silence hovers over the room, Skye is reminded of the fact that while she doesn't know Andy very much at all, many of the people in this room had been around for the majority of her life. Many of the people in this room have ties to each other that have been around nearly as long as Skye's been alive. Yet, despite that, the ripple of unease among them is unmissable. Phil clears his throat to break the silence, though it sounds distinctly uncomfortable. Skye wonders exactly what it is he's thinking, but he seems eager to press on and his expression doesn't so much as give her a hint.

"I expect you'll keep me updated on the matter as your tests progress," Phil says, eyeballing Jemma and Niles both. At their nod, he moves on. "Now, I want to discuss just what this clearance and probationary period entails."

Skye glances sidelong at Trip and Jemma. Like her, the statement has them leaning forward in their seats, unsure of what they should anticipate from Phil. For his part, the director seems to be considering the matter very seriously as he frowns down at his hands in thought. After a slight pause, he looks up, making sure to hold each of their gazes in turn as he speaks.

"I want to make it clear that while they are both on a probationary period and will be monitored closely, that does _not_ mean these two agents should be treated as though they were turncoats," Phil says firmly. "I've listened to what both of them have had to say—and I believe them. Files given to me by Director Fury back up Agent Sitwell's story entirely which, in turn, backs up that of Agent Coulson. I understand that their actions may have hurt some of you, either directly or indirectly, and however you choose to conduct your personal relationship with them is your business. Professionally, however, I expect them to be treated the same as any other agent."

"And we're absolutely positive about these results?" Felix asks, apparently unconvinced. "I have no doubt that Agent Simmons and Dr. Pendergraph are both very good at what they do, but they're hardly experts on brainwashing."

"Not experts, no, but Agent Simmons and I were lucky enough to have access to one of the devices HYDRA used to brainwash your agents," Niles reports. "From what I understand, it was salvaged from the remains of the Triskelion and from there came to us. Once we understood how it worked, we knew what to look for." He gestures to the screen at one end of the room. "If you look at the scans, the outlined areas are where you would expect to find certain markers if the subject were suffering from any lingering effects. The absence of those markers means they're free of any outside influence."

"And Ward?" Melinda says, speaking for the first time since the meeting had begun. "I know you've conducted tests on him as well."

Skye watches as Jemma's expression hardens into something she's never seen on the biochemist's face before. It's full of such cold, utter loathing, that Skye could almost say she's nearly unrecognizable. Not that she can blame her. The mention of their former teammate sends fire coursing through her veins, reigniting the ache in her knuckles as she longs for another private session with the gym's punching bag.

"Our results show that Grant Ward was never subjected to that machine," Jemma says coolly. "Whatever decisions he made were his own."

Although she'd been fairly certain of this already, hearing it causes something in Skye to flare up. Glancing down at the band on her wrist tells her that her heartrate is skyrocketing. Willing herself to calm down, she rubs her wrist self-consciously. This is why she started wearing it in the first place. She has to learn how to be in control. She can't let emotion get the best of her. If she's going to be even a passable agent, she needs to be able to put herself on lockdown.

"Which is why," Phil says, bringing her out of her thoughts, "he's staying right where he is. Now, before we conclude this meeting, is there anything anyone wants to say? Any points to be brought up that weren't covered?"

She watches him look up and down the table, waiting for someone to say something. Yeah, she thinks, there are a _lot_ of things all of them would like to say. But perhaps this isn't the right time because no one says a word. With a sharp nod, Phil begins to rise from his seat.

"Alright then," he declares. "Meeting adjourned."

They're slow to gather their things and filter out, perhaps because they're all looking to corner the director for a private word. Luckily for Skye, Phil actually seems to be seeking _her_ out. As he passes by, he briefly touches her shoulder and as she looks up, he nods towards the door; a quiet hint that he'd like a word. She follows without question, curious as to what he feels he needs to say to her alone. However, as they leave the room, he remains curiously silent. They walk slowly down the hall—slowly because she matches his pace and he seems to be in no hurry.

"Has Jemma spoken to you at all?"

The question comes abruptly, as though he's finally gathered the threads he'd been searching for.

"Yeah?" Skye says slowly, arching an eyebrow as she turns to look him in the face. "We're… kind of friends?"

Phil offers her a flat expression in return, one that says he's trying very hard not to roll his eyes right now.

"I'm aware," he says. "I mean about this whole thing. About Jasper."

Skye shrugs one shoulder. "I mean, a little."

"Is she okay?" Phil asks.

"As okay as she can be," Skye answers honestly. "He's not talking to her or they're not talking to each other or… I dunno. I know what you said about them being in the clear and treating them like any other agent, but I don't know if that's gonna be all that easy for her."

"I don't expect it to be easy," Phil admits. "But I do expect both of them to make an effort."

Skye hums, a noncommittal little noise. They can stand here and say that, but in reality, it's not so simple. Keeping working relationships and personal relationships separate sounds good on paper, but it's not so easily done in practice. Perhaps before SHIELD had collapsed it would have been easier, but none of them exactly have the opportunity to transfer out if they're not getting along. This is it. It's all of them in this single base, living and working together.

"So… speaking of making an effort, how are things going with your kid?" Skye wonders aloud.

"We've been talking," Phil says simply.

"Right," Skye says, nodding.

"Does that not meet with your approval?" Phil asks, arching an eyebrow at her response.

"No, it's just… weird," Skye admits. "She seems nice. Molly and Niles are nice. Almost _too_ nice."

"Now you're just being paranoid."

"And whose fault is that Mr. Head Spy?"

Again, he seems to be fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "I know things are a bit strange right now. I know it's hard. But I'm confident we'll all come together in time. In the meantime… just do your best."

"Yeah, alright," Skye answers as they stop at the stairway that leads to his office.

"And Skye?"

"Yeah?"

His voice pitches low to that soft, gentle timbre that only comes when he says something he truly needs her to hear. "I was watching you when May brought up Ward. Go easy on yourself, please. Maybe give the punching bag a break for a day."

She wonders when she became so easy for all of them to predict. Though it's difficult to do so, she nods in agreement. He touches her shoulder with a brief smile before he disappears into his office. Her eyes follow him up the stairs and until the door closes behind him. It was a conversation they'd had before. He's told her—more than once—that what happened with Ward wasn't her fault. That she can't hold herself responsible. That she can't blame herself. She understands all these things in principle, but bringing herself to believe them isn't something she finds herself able to do just yet.

But a promise is a promise. No hitting the bag today. But there are two ex-HYDRA agents being moved into their quarters today, so maybe she'll just check on them instead.

* * *

Skye knows where Andy and Jasper will be. Everyone does. As she nears the two rooms, side by side, she's almost surprised that there isn't anyone lingering about the area. Surprised and thankful—she can't imagine it would be fun for either of them being watched like they're in a fish bowl. Granted, that's likely what it's been like since they'd arrived… but they're in the clear now. Right?

The first room she reaches is empty, a rucksack sitting abandoned on the bed and a few stray belongings lying beside it. But she can hear voices and so continues on to the second. The door is open and she knocks to announce her presence as she comes to stand in the doorway. Andy and Jasper, sitting side by side on the bed, look up at the sound as though they've just been interrupted in the middle of a deep conversation.

"Hey," Skye greets. She hikes a thumb over her shoulder. "Just wanted to check in, but I can come back if now's a bad time."

Andy perks up. "No, definitely not. Come on in."

Skye does so, despite the fact that the look on Jasper's face says he clearly disagrees with the younger Coulson's sentiment. She's found Andy to be a warm, welcoming personality on the whole; a stark contrast to the cool, closed-lipped front that Jasper puts up.

"So," Skye says, sitting herself in the chair facing the bed. "You guys must be psyched to be out of medical."

"For the time being. Gotta go back in the morning for some tests," Andy says, raising her wrist. Like Skye's, it bears a monitoring bracelet.

"We match," Skye says with a lopsided smile, raising hers in kind.

"How cute. They're like friendship bracelets," Andy says, smirking. She nods towards Skye. "Why do they have you wearing one?"

"Actually, it was my choice," Skye says with a shrug. "I didn't go to the academy or anything like the rest of you. And now it looks like that's not going to happen. So I'm trying to learn how to keep myself level so something like Ward doesn't happen again."

"That wasn't your fault."

Skye's surprised to hear from Jasper. It had seemed like he was prepared to remain silent for the duration of her visit. Although she didn't know Andy all that well, they'd had a handful of conversations where she at least felt she knew _something_ about the woman. Jasper, on the other hand, not so much. Not anything more than what she'd heard second-hand from Jemma, in any case.

"Being tricked by Ward had nothing to do with your inexperience as an agent," Jasper corrects her. "Wanting to be a better agent is fine, but don't think it'll make you immune to this kind of thing."

"Maybe it won't, but I can still be better," Skye says. She leans forward in her seat. "So did you know? About Ward and Garrett?"

"I knew," Jasper replies.

"When we were looking for the Clairvoyant?" Skye presses further.

"I knew," Jasper repeats.

"So what you're saying is, you let us all knowingly walk into a trap," Skye says.

" _Hey_ ," Andy snaps.

"The brainwashing I can understand," Skye says before the other woman can get another word in. "But all this happened _before_ that. All that stuff with Jemma, all the lies, all the ways you knowingly lead her on, that was all you, wasn't it, buddy?"

"It was," Jasper says. He doesn't seem particularly bothered by her accusations—in fact he looks kind of bored—and that draws out Skye's temper once again, teases it until it burns like a hot, angry coal. "You got something you need to say?"

"Yeah, I got something I need to say," Skye says, rising from her seat.

"If you came here to pick a fight, then I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," Andy says, rising at nearly the same time that she does. Surprisingly, she then turns her attention to Jasper. "And you need to stop egging people on. Seriously, we've been out of lockdown for, what… an hour? I'm not getting my ass locked up again just because you're not playing nice."

"I'm just making myself available for conversation, as per the agreement of our release," Jasper says innocently.

"Then perhaps you'd best make yourself available."

Skye isn't the only one who jumps at the sound of Jemma's voice. The three of them look to the door in unison to find the biochemist hovering just within the perimeter of the room, her chin held high despite the uncertainty in her eyes. Skye turns her head and looks back to Jasper, awaiting his reaction. He hasn't exactly been receptive, but perhaps that will change with Jemma.

"Alright," he says simply, rising from where he sits.

Skye stands by, watching as the bespectacled agent passes her without so much as a glance. There's a tension between the two—former?—lovers, so strong that Skye imagines for a moment that she feels it crackling in the air. She finds Jemma's gaze, concerned about leaving the two of them alone, but Jemma merely shakes her head and offers a reassuring, if tight lipped, little smile in return. It's enough so that when the two of them depart, Skye doesn't try to follow.

There's a heavy silence hanging in the air as she stands across from Andy in the now empty room. The younger Coulson's eyes remain locked on the doorway where Jemma and Jasper had just been, her lips drawn into a thin, unhappy line. It's clear she's as worried about the outcome of that conversation as Skye is.

"So what _did_ you come here for anyway?" Andy asks, not bothering to pull her gaze away from the doorway.

"I don't know. Answers, maybe," Skye admits. "Things have been…"

"Confusing?" Andy offers, looking to her at last.

"To say the least," Skye says, shrugging one shoulder. "I mean, it doesn't help when most of us don't really know what happened and Sitwell isn't in the mood for polite conversation."

"He's an ass. He always has been," Andy advises her. She folds her arms over her chest and shakes her head. "But in this case… Maybe it's asking a lot, but try to cut him a little slack. He's having a hard time with all of this."

"And everyone else isn't?" Skye asks, arching an eyebrow. "Okay, the brainwashing, I get it. It was horrible and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. But he's not the only one who was hurt by all this. I mean… look at _Fitz_."

Andy makes a soft noise, something like a hum and a grunt all at once, before she sits on the edge of the bed again. "And that's true but... How much do you know? About what Jasper was doing, I mean."

"Just that he was working undercover for Director Fury, got found out and got turned into a HYDRA toadie," Skye replies, looking to Andy expectantly.

She looks like Phil when she thinks, Skye decides. Something in the way she frowns. It's odd.

"He was working undercover for the past seven years. None of us knew about it. None of us. Director Fury approached him specifically with the task of infiltrating HYDRA and feeding him information," Andy tells her. She holds her hands between her knees, clasped so tightly that her knuckles turn white. "He accepted that assignment with the understanding that, regardless of the outcome, win or lose, he likely wouldn't live to see it. The way this all turned out… wasn't in his plans. He failed to prevent SHIELD's fall and lived to see HYDRA rise. Everything he worked for was, in his eyes, for nothing. All the sacrifices, all the years dedicated to that cause, and what does he have to show for it? I'm not trying to make excuses for him… well, no, maybe I am. It's just that I know he's being kind of a dick, but he's got his reasons, even if he won't say so himself."

Okay, well, that's quite a bit to chew on. It helps to shed some light on a situation that everyone has been surprisingly mum about so far, but Skye still has plenty of questions. Luckily, Andy seems to be in the mood to provide her with some answers. Careful not to crowd the other woman's personal space, Skye takes the spot on the bed that Jasper had vacated minutes prior.

"That doesn't really excuse how he's behaving," Skye points out. "Or how he's treated Jemma."

"No, it doesn't," Andy sighs. "I'll agree with you there."

"But you still cover for him," Skye says.

"He's my partner. He's been my best friend for ages," Andy says with a shrug. "I was the one who brought him to HYDRA, so on some level I'm responsible for some of his actions."

"You act like you're personally responsible for HYDRA taking down SHIELD," Skye says.

"Well maybe not _that_ far, but I definitely didn't help the situation," Andy tells her. "The point is I hurt him. I hurt a lot of people."

"That wasn't your fault, though," Skye insists. "You were being controlled by HYDRA yourself. And it's not like you could've known what Garrett was up to."

"Just like you couldn't know what Grant was up to?" Andy asks.

"Shut up," Skye snorts.

But she understands the point the other woman's trying to make. You can have a hundred people tell you it's not your fault, but until you can convince yourself of that, it doesn't do you much good to hear. They'd all been fooled and they're all at different stages of accepting that fact. They're all at different stages of accepting a lot of things, when it comes right down to it.

"Hey."

Skye glances up.

"Thanks," Andy says.

"For…?" Skye fishes.

"Coming here to talk. Listening to what I have to say," Andy replies. "I know this is probably pretty weird for you guys. I know you didn't _have_ to come here. So I appreciate that you did."

"Well, your mom's pretty chill and I guess your dad's okay, too," Skye says with a faint smirk, "so I figure you deserve a shot."

"And Jasper?" Andy asks, eyebrows lifted hopefully.

"We'll see."

"Fair enough."

Skye doesn't know the woman sitting beside her any more than she knows the man who had just left the room. But given the circumstances, given everything they've been through and everything still ahead of them, she doesn't see why she shouldn't try to change that. Now, more than ever, they need to learn to stand together.


	2. Desiderata

Skye hadn't exactly thought she was snooping, but perhaps there were better ways to learn about people than lurking around corners and eavesdropping on their conversations. Except their newcomers aren't exactly the most approachable people so this method had sufficed for the time being. Until she was caught, anyway.

"As much as I prefer to avoid pointless conversation, your stalking method has won out as the more annoying of my two options," Felix declares as she walks into the pantry.

"Good morning to you, too," Skye responds flatly. She narrows her eyes at the accusation as she retrieves her mug from the shelf. "And I'm not stalking anyone, okay? Ever think that maybe you're just paranoid?"

Felix actually manages to look even more bored than he usually does at her suggestion. "I people watch. It's my job. You really think I haven't noticed you listening in on conversations? Or those pathetic attempts at stealth?"

"Pathetic's a bit mean," Skye grumbles, filling her mug. "I'm not that bad."

"I'm surprised you lasted as long as you have," Felix drawls. "Especially with Coulson babying you."

"Yeah, ever consider that your sunny personality might be the reason people might not approach you?" Skye fires back.

"I count on it," Felix says, sipping from his mug.

Skye rolls her eyes as she finishes stirring cream and sugar into her coffee and prepares to leave. "Good talk, Agent Blake."

"Sit."

She pauses, perplexed by the invitation. 'Welcoming' isn't exactly what she'd call it, but the look he's pinning her with tells her that he expects her to stay. Considering his prickly demeanor, she thinks she can be forgiven for getting mixed signals. Still, curiosity wins out and she hovers in the doorway, waiting to see what this is all about.

"Didn't you just finish saying you basically hate human interaction?" Skye points out.

"Yes, but I also prefer when someone is direct with me," Felix informs her. He limps slowly towards one of the tables set up just a few feet away, leaning heavily on his cane. His back is turned to Skye as he speaks, clearly expecting her to follow. "And if it'll put an end to your sad attempts at espionage, I can suffer through a few minutes of conversation."

"You're too kind," Skye snorts.

But she follows regardless.

She slows her pace, not wanting to reach the table before he does. Although she's not sure if he's self-conscious about his recent disability, she decides it's better not to risk it and waits until he's reached his seat before she reaches hers. There's an awkward silence hanging over them as they sit at the table, looking to each other expectantly.

"So…" Skye says, drumming her fingers on the table. She clears her throat, looking for some way to open this up. "Hi."

"Please tell me you're not going to sit here with nothing to say," Felix replies, looking slightly annoyed by the possibility.

"Well, I wasn't exactly expecting to wake up this morning to play twenty questions with you," Skye informs him. "Gimme a minute, okay?"

"You could always start with why you insist on lurking around corners like a cartoon villain," Felix suggests.

"Because, as you've proven today, you're not exactly Mr. Sunshine," Skye points out. "You've pretty much constantly thrown off a vibe of 'don't even breathe near me' since you've gotten here."

"To avoid pointless conversation," Felix reminds her. "I don't turn away legitimate questions or concerns."

"And I was supposed to know that how?" Skye wonders.

"Perhaps by, oh, I don't know, actually attempting to speak to me," Felix suggests.

"Okay. Fair," Skye admits with a shrug of her shoulder. She twists her coffee mug in place, wondering how to sum up the hundreds of questions that have built up in her mind since this had all started. "Look, I don't know how to address this with a question, exactly. It's just that… I mean, all of you are… You know each other. Knew each other. Way before my team was put together. So it's a little… weird, you know? All of this? All of you guys knowing each other and then people like me and Jemma and Fitz kind of being out of the loop. I guess I'm just trying to figure out where all of you stand with each other."

"And where you and your team fit in," Felix finishes for her.

"Yeah," Skye admits. She pauses to take a sip of her coffee, working out her thoughts but somehow comforted by the thought that Felix at least seems to understand where she's coming from. "The thing is, Coulson seems to be the one thing we all have in common but also… not. Like the way we know him isn't the same way you do. I get this feeling that since he came back… maybe you guys aren't as close as you used to be. Maybe I'm completely off base with that but—"

"You're not," Felix interrupts smoothly. "Things have been changing in our group for decades. We've grown apart in our personal lives over the years. But the Chitauri Invasion was a significant turning point. It put Coulson further away, but brought many of the rest of us closer together. It had to. We were expected to maintain a very careful lie so we all had to play along. Fury made that very clear to us."

"To the point of going along with the idea that he and Hand had never met?" Skye presses. "That he didn't have a kid or a family or…?"

"It was necessary," Felix replies. He doesn't look particularly happy with that fact, but he never looks particularly happy in the first place so that very well could be a contributing factor. "Necessary things aren't always pretty. Yes, in some ways, it was wrong. I think if most of us knew beforehand what Fury was planning to do to him, it would never have happened. But it did. So we kept up the lie to protect him and in doing that, we distanced ourselves from him. The Coulson you know and the Coulson we knew are not the same person. So yes, I understand what you're trying to say."

Skye digests this, biting the inside of her lip as silence falls between them. Felix sips his coffee patiently, waiting for her to figure out what she wants to say. He seems less… annoyed than he had minutes prior. Maybe it's because they're actually talking about something worth talking about. Or maybe because he thinks he'll finally have her off his back once they're finished. Either way, he's open to talking and she'll take what she can get.

"So I can't help but feel all of that is presenting us with something of a problem," Skye says at length. "Or am I alone in thinking there was a pretty clear divide in that meeting the other day?"

"You're not wrong," Felix says with a shrug of his shoulders. "But there's nothing deliberate in it. We may all be agents and we may be working for the same cause, but the fact remains that some very different groups of people have suddenly been forced into interaction. It's not going to be magic overnight."

"Well, no, but it still feels… Okay, I'll be frank. It feels like you guys are judging the hell out of us," Skye tells him.

"You say that like we haven't been judging the hell out of you all along," Felix says, looking amused by her shocked expression. "Look, kid—"

"Skye."

"Fine, Skye. I've known Coulson for thirty years. Malone's known him since they were kids. Do you honestly think we would just drop him off with any old team?" Felix asks. "I'm not one for excessively emotional conversations. In fact I make it a point to avoid them at all costs. But we're all going to have to work together, whether we like it or not, so we have to learn to at least tolerate each other. Try talking to someone like Hand—she tends to be a little more open to these kinds of things. Or at least more open to it than me."

"Right. Thanks for the tip," Skye says slowly. But something still gnaws at her, one question that won't quite leave her be. "When you said we have to learn how to tolerate each other, does that include Sitwell?"

She expects a sharp retort to come flying at her before she has time to draw a breath. It's surprising, therefore, when Felix stays his tongue. There's a contemplative look on his face; one that tells her the answer to her question is perhaps more complicated than she'd bargained for. From where she sits, she's able to see the moment his hand travels to his left thigh. It doesn't take any grand leaps of deduction to figure out what's on his mind.

"You want to know if I blame Sitwell for what happened," Felix deduces.

"It's kind of the hot button issue around here at the moment," Skye admits.

"I've known him a long time. Nearly as long as Coulson," Felix admits. He grabs his cane and slowly begins to stand, the pain that comes with the action clearly written in his pinched expression. "Sitwell made his choices and not all of them were good ones. But I can at least respect the fact that he was doing what he thought was right. He's not blameless, but if you thought I'd hold it against him, you thought wrong."

As he limps away from the table, Skye knows that their talk is over. She'd gotten some of the answers she'd been after, but it seems like Jasper is going to remain a touchy subject. Not that she's surprised. Even after Jemma and Jasper had talked days prior, things remained frosty between them. Even worse, Jemma wouldn't breathe a word about what had been said between them.

Maybe it was time to stop beating around the bush. Deciding to take Felix's advice, Skye finishes off her coffee, rinses out her mug and starts towards where she thinks Victoria might be.

* * *

"So, he pawned you off on me, did he?" Victoria says, not looking up from the paperwork she's pouring over.

"I feel so loved," Skye says, the words dripping with sarcasm.

"Don't worry, it's not you. Blake does this with everyone," Victoria informs her. "There's only so much human contact he can take at once." She closes the folder she'd been flipping through and turns her gaze towards Skye. "What would you like to know?"

"I don't know," Skye admits, passing Victoria the mug of coffee she'd brought as a peace offering. "Whatever you're willing to tell me, I guess. I think the problem is that we're kind of still operating as two separate groups."

"I agree. But I don't think it's anything unusual," Victoria counters, accepting the mug with a nod of thanks. "You disagree?"

"Not necessarily," Skye answers, pulling out a chair at the conference table. When Victoria doesn't make an attempt to stop her, she sits. "I get that throwing all of us together, getting everyone to work together… that'll take time. It's just that no one seems to be willing to make the effort to start."

"It's still early yet," Victoria answers, sipping from her mug.

"It's been weeks," Skye counters.

Victoria eyes her over the rims of her glasses. "And why, exactly, are you in such a hurry?"

Skye holds back a sigh of frustration. No one seems to see what she does; or at the very least, no one seems to care about it in any case. The lines of tension running through the base are obvious, but she seems to be the only one looking to smooth them out.

"It bothers you," Victoria notes, watching her closely. "People around you not getting along."

"Well, yeah," Skye says, quirking an eyebrow. "I would think it would bother most people."

Victoria smirks, huffing a soft laugh. "I can see why you're the favorite."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Skye asks.

"Coulson's: Mr. Teamwork himself," Victoria elaborates, looking smug. "Don't get me wrong, he's not one to show favoritism in a professional capacity. But he undeniably values agents who show a strong leaning towards teamwork."

"Yeeeeeah, trying to change the subject isn't going to work on me," Skye advises her.

"Mmhmm," Victoria hums. "Well, then why don't you ask whatever it is you really came here to ask?"

Skye should've figured that she would've been transparent to a senior field agent. Hell, Felix had probably seen it written all over her. But to be fair, it's a bit of a delicate subject to broach. Not to mention that it sounds a bit ludicrous; even to her, and she's the one thinking it.

"It's not that I suspect any of you of anything…" Skye begins.

"…but…?" Victoria prompts.

"…does your team hate my team or something?" Skye asks slowly. "I know it sounds paranoid, but there couldn't be any more of a line between all of us unless I took put a piece of chalk and drew it."

"You're not wrong," Victoria says delicately, her nails tapping the mug between her hands. "But you're not exactly right, either. It's not that any of us hate any of you so much as it is that we're… resentful of certain things as they now stand."

"Resentful," Skye echoes in confusion.

"Understand, we've known Coulson for a long, long time," Victoria says. "And while we're well aware that his memory is… a delicate thing, some of us can't help but resent the way things have turned out. Things have happened, things most of us didn't agree with, and it's been difficult to come to terms with."

Although the woman remains calm, there's an undercurrent of rage to her words that is unmistakable. It takes Skye by surprise, given that Victoria has seemed to be an even tempered, level-headed personality on all counts. There's no doubt that all of these senior agents are the utmost professionals, and yet beneath all of that lies a strong personal tie that binds them all together. For someone like Victoria, who Phil doesn't remember at all, Skye imagines navigating these new waters must be particularly difficult. Not for the first time, Skye wishes she could crawl inside Nick Fury's head, if only to have the whole and complete truth. But even as she thinks it, she's sure it's not something she'd be happy with once she had it.

"But you're right," Victoria says, cutting through her thoughts. "There should be more of an effort to operate as one team instead of two. I'll add it to the list of issues we need to work on."

"I didn't mean to make you think… I mean, Coulson's not doing it on purpose," Skye says, feeling guilty now for having even brought it up.

"Everyone's doing what they can given the circumstances, him included," Victoria replies. "I understand what you were trying to do, coming to each of us. Like I said, there's a reason you're the favorite."

"Yeah, you said that before," Skye notes, still perplexed by the words. Or rather, the true meaning behind them.

"You know, you remind me a lot of Andy," Victoria informs her. "And I think that, regardless of what Fury did to his head, Coulson never really, truly forgot her."

And there it is.

"So what you're saying is that I've been a convenient stand-in," Skye says, her tone soured by the implication.

"No," Victoria answers, drawing the word out in a tone not unlike that of the nuns who would so frequently correct her in her school days. "It just so happens that you two share a number of traits that Coulson seems to hold in high regard. Though, I don't doubt he thinks of you as something of a daughter. He always did have a terrible habit of picking up strays."

Skye's not sure what to make of the lines Victoria's drawing. It's true that Phil has become a father-figure in her life—something that's apparently obvious to the other woman—but the idea of having been a surrogate, a replacement for the daughter he was truly seeking, unsettles her. Now that Victoria has pointed it out, Skye's mind can't help but comb through all her interactions with Phil, looking for some clue, some hint that she's right and that she was never really, truly wanted after all.

"Does that bother you?" Victoria asks. Her posture is relaxed as she drinks her coffee but her eyes watch Skye with an edge that's anything but uninterested.

"No," Skye answers defensively.

But it does. On some level, it really does. Skye had been the one to come here asking questions, but somehow she finds the roles have been reversed. Without her even noticing, Victoria had turned the tables on her. It feels almost like an interrogation.

"You say it doesn't, but your body language gives you away," Victoria informs her.

"It does?" Skye wonders aloud, looking down at herself reflexively.

"You didn't get the same training as the rest of us," Victoria says. "But you know, the few senior agents we have here… perhaps it might do you some good to spend some time alone with each of us."

"What, you mean you guys would train me?" Skye inquires, perking up at the possibility.

"We could. It would certainly do all of you some good," Victoria muses. She seems to still be contemplating the matter herself. "I can't say that Blake would be particularly enthused by the idea, but I'll take it to Coulson. If we're rebuilding, we'll need capable agents and reestablishing a training system should be a high priority item on the agenda. It won't be an academy by any means, but it could be a start."

"Yeah. Yeah, I think that's a _great_ idea," Skye says, nodding as she mulls it over. "Actually, I think that might just kill two birds with one stone."

"I'll start seeing what we've got to work with and bring it up at the next meeting," Victoria assures her. "For now, just be patient."

"And pray for a miracle?" Skye wonders.

"At this point? It probably wouldn't hurt," Victoria says.

A miracle might be what it takes to get them all working together, but Skye has a feeling that this particular miracle is going to have to be man-made.

* * *

These days, Skye's gotten used to Molly's mothering. Mostly. Not having had a true mother of her own, she still finds the older woman's penchant for taking them all on like they're her own to be a new experience. Not a bad one, just… new. And so it's unsurprising when Molly seeks her out for a talk.

"Skye, you busy?" Molly asks, catching her as she's walking through the hall.

Technically, yes, she is busy. Or rather, she's been tasked with an assignment. Phil had asked her to tackle getting their personnel database in order; who's with them, who's not, who's dead, ho's alive, who's unknown. Granted, it's an ongoing project, and when she sees the look on Molly's face, she decides she can make time.

"Just going over some files for AC," she says with a shrug of her shoulders, lifting the files in her arms for emphasis. "But I can take a break if you need something."

"Actually, I was wondering if we could talk," Molly replies. She seems to consider her own proposition before tacking on, "Privately."

That arouses Skye's suspicion further. "Yeah. Sure. Is everything okay?"

A smile forms on the older woman's face, displacing the serious expression that had been there moments prior. A soft, airy laugh escapes her at the question, though Skye fails to find the humor in it.

"Everything's fine," Molly assures her. She pats Skye on the shoulder before nodding towards the end of the hall. "Why don't you get settled in with your files and I'll bring us something to drink. What would you like? Tea? Coffee? Cocoa?"

"Whatever you're having," Skye says, more concerned with whatever they're going to be talking about.

Molly adopts a thoughtful look at her answer, a small, secretive smile forming on her lips. "Alright. I'll meet you in about fifteen minutes."

Skye nods in agreement as the senior agent turns and walks back the way she'd come. For a moment, Skye stays put, watching Molly as though at any moment she might give away some hint at what she's holding back, but then she rounds the corner at the end of the hall and the moment is gone.

* * *

By the time Molly finds her, the files Phil had tasked to Skye have already taken over the table. It's not easy work, digging through personnel files, trying to place all these former agents into categories: dead, HYDRA, out of the game, unknown. There are so many of them, each with their own story, and Phil has been adamant that they account for every last one of them.

"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?" Molly asks, sliding into the seat adjacent to Skye.

"Yeah. I mean, I knew SHIELD was huge, but when you're looking at it on an agent-by-agent basis, you really start to see just how many people there were," Skye replies, setting the file in her hand down in one of the many piles she's created.

"And how many people need us now," Molly adds, pushing a mug across the tabletop to her. "SHIELD was more than just a job for many of its agents. The work could be dangerous if you were a field agent, certainly, but everyone who worked for SHIELD had steady pay, benefits… I've thought a lot about the thousands of people who don't have that now. Or who can't find more work because of their former ties to SHIELD. HYDRA's done more damage than the public realizes and it's important that we work hard to pick up the pieces."

Skye nods at the sentiment, pulling the offered mug in towards her and wrapping her fingers around it for warmth. Phil had been adamant—to the point of obsession—that they take care of their people. That they find them. It's one of the things she admires most about Phil and something she tries to emulate; that drive to help people.

Her first sip of the warm offering Molly had brought pulls her from her thoughts. The sweet taste of honey and cinnamon catches her off guard when she'd been expecting coffee or tea. More surprising is when she looks down and finds the contents of her mug are a milky robin's egg blue. Curiously, Molly's mug holds a different colored beverage—something mint green.

"Um," Skye says, lacking the words for the questions popping up in her mind.

"Fairy Wine," Molly says by way of an explanation. She tips her glass towards herself, smiling at the contents. "It's just warm milk, honey and cinnamon with a little food coloring for fun. I used to make it for Andy when she was little. It's more of a… comfort thing."

"Well, it's good," Skye says with a little laugh. "Thanks for sharing it with me. Why the name, though, if I can ask?"

"It was something Mom—well, Mrs. Coulson, but she was 'Mom' to so many of us—told us when Phil and I were little. That it was a recipe the fairies used to make their wine. You're supposed to leave a little on the windowsill for them out of respect in case they visit you," Molly explains. "It was silly, but we bought into it. So did Andy."

"So you knew AC, then? When you were kids?" Skye asks, her interest piqued.

"He and his mother moved back to Boston in the summer of '73, after his father died. We became friends that school year and, when I turned fourteen, Mrs. Coulson became my legal guardian until I turned eighteen," Molly tells her.

"Childhood sweethearts?" Skye says with a grin.

"I suppose you could say we were," Molly says with a laugh.

There are a million questions Skye is poised to ask. Here she is, sitting with someone who had known Phil since they were in the third grade and doesn't seem shy about sharing. With how tight-lipped Phil tends to be about himself, Skye may as well have just struck gold.

"It's okay to ask questions," Molly says, an amused smile peeping over the rim of her cup. "If you don't mind if I ask some of my own?"

"I… yeah, sure," Skye says, caught off guard. "I'm not sure what you would want to ask me, though."

Molly meets her uncertainty with a soft shrug of her shoulders. Suddenly Skye has to wonder just what it is Molly had wanted to speak to her about privately.

"I've been talking to Phil and Melinda. About you, that is. Well, about all of you, but there's something about you in particular that's been bothering me," Molly admits.

Skye's hand slides to cover her wrist, squeezing the monitoring bracelet. She can feel her heart pounding in anxiety over what the older woman has to say and she hates the way she can't control it.

"It's just that with everything that's happened, there are certain… things about you that I can't help but notice," Molly tells her. "And because of that, I'd like to ask you a question and I'd like you to answer me honestly."

Despite the way her heart thumps against her ribcage, despite how she wants to end the conversation here and now, Skye finds herself nodding slowly, silently, in response.

"Skye," Molly says, meeting her gaze with an intensity that makes Skye's skin tingle, "are you okay?"

She realizes she must look like a fool, sitting here with her mouth hanging open and her eyebrows nearly at her hairline. But the question seems so… mundane.

"I'm good, how are you?" Skye answers, confusion and suspicion drawing the words out slowly.

"Skye," Molly says, her tone gently chastising. "I'm being serious right now."

"So am I," Skye answers. "I'm good. I don't really know what else you want me to say."

"And you're sure about that," Molly presses. "After everything that happened. After you were shot, after you nearly died, after HYDRA and what happened with Grant—"

"I said I'm fine," Skye says, cutting her off with a little more bite than she'd intended. "Look, no one's really okay with all the shit that happened to us, but I'm no worse than anyone else. I can handle it."

"It's not a matter of handling it, it's…"

Molly stops herself with a sigh. Skye has the sudden, insane presence of mind to jump up from her chair and run from the room, but resists the impulse. She can't just run because she doesn't like the conversation.

"What you're doing now, all this… hitting the bag and training and trying to make yourself into the perfect agent, it's not the way to deal with what happened," Molly tells her.

"Okay, I appreciate the advice and all, but I'm dealing with things just fine," Skye says, pulling another file towards her to try and dissuade any further conversation. "And why is it such a bad thing if I want to be a better agent? I'm just working hard to make sure—"

"To make sure no one hurts you like that again," Molly guesses.

"To make sure no one gets hurt because of me," Skye corrects her.

Molly nods in response to her answer, mulling it over briefly. Instead of letting the conversation come to a close, however, she just switches tactics.

"Can I tell you something, Skye?" Molly asks. "Humor me for a minute."

Skye considers it. "As long as it doesn't end with more advice."

"Deal," Molly says.

She holds her hand out expectantly and Skye reaches out. They shake dutifully and Skye prays that Molly will hold up her end of the bargain.

"I told you Phil's mom was my legal guardian. That came about because my father was an abusive alcoholic and Phil never was one to back down from a fight just because someone was bigger than him," Molly tells her. "I told him to leave it alone for five years and that night, he'd decided he'd had enough. Phil was always on the smaller side and needless to say a fourteen-year-old boy didn't have much on a two-hundred and eighty pound, forty-seven-year-old former high school boxing champion. Dad nearly killed me that night. Certainly meant to. They found my step-mother in the bedroom with her skull caved in. The only reason I survived was because Phil came."

Molly sips at her drink, maybe collecting her thoughts, maybe giving herself a second to push away the memories that came with telling the story. With what she'd received so far, Skye finds herself frozen in place. Her agitation moments prior has been displaced by her shock at Molly's surprising candidness.

"Phil had the presence of mind to phone the police before he ran the two blocks to my house. Which was a good thing, because if they'd come any later I'm sure my father would've killed him," Molly continues. "Mom never once blamed me for the fact that her son had nearly been beaten to death defending me. She said that's just the way Phil was. But I blamed myself. After that night, I made myself a promise. I used my father's money to make sure that I would never let another man hurt me the way he had and that I would never need a man to protect me the way Phil had. Self-defense classes, martial arts, gun safety courses… anything that I thought would make me stronger, I did it."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Skye points out quietly.

"In itself it wasn't. But I didn't realize that in my effort to strengthen myself, I was running away from my problem. I became so obsessed with eliminating my weaknesses that it became the only thing that mattered. I pushed the people closest to me out of my life. Even Phil," Molly says, shaking her head. "Mom was the one who helped me finally realize it. I had never… talked to anyone about what had happened. I never acknowledged the things I had gone through. She was always the kind of person you felt like you could tell your life story to. And eventually, I did. I told her everything and after a while, I started to feel like me again. You never really realize that you've become someone else until you start to get back to yourself."

"You said you wouldn't be giving me any more advice," Skye warns the other woman.

"I'm not going to give you advice; I'm going to ask a favor," Molly tells her. "It doesn't have to be me. It doesn't have to be Phil or Melinda or any of the others. But please promise me you will find someone and you will talk to them about what's going on inside of you right now. I'm not going to ask you to stop hitting that punching bag or shooting those targets on the range; I know that, right now, you need that. But please promise me you'll talk to someone, even if it's not today or tomorrow or even next week."

Skye's not sure what to say. Annoyingly, she finds her eyes stinging by the time the red-headed woman has finished speaking. Molly watches her with a careful, concerned gaze that Skye can only think to describe as maternal. The thought pulls at something inside her, yanks at wants and desires and prayers that she'd buried after so many failed foster homes.

"Okay," Skye says simply, not trusting herself to say much else. Thankfully, the meager response is apparently enough to appease Molly as she makes no effort to push the subject. Skye clears her throat, eager to change the topic. "So, what was Coulson like as a kid?"

There's a moment, a brief flicker of emotion in the older woman's eyes following Skye's question, and though it's gone in an instant, it's there just long enough for Skye to read. Molly had hoped she would talk. She's disappointed she's chosen not to. But the slow, patient smile that shifts the freckles on her face tells Skye that she's willing to wait. The moment passes and Molly moves on with their new topic of conversation.

"Oh, pretty much the same as he is now. Only smaller and skinnier and with a bit more hair," Molly says with a bright laugh. "If you want good blackmail material, you've come to the right place. For example, once when we were in fifth grade, Phil got it in his head that he was going to take on this gang of sixth graders by himself. So after school, he goes out to the parking lot and he marches straight up to the biggest, ugliest twelve-year-old you've ever seen and he says—"

Skye spends more time listening to Molly's stories than she does going through her files, but she can't say it wasn't productive. Still, by the time Molly's left and Phil comes around to check on her progress, she hasn't gotten nearly as much done as she'd wanted to.

"So, I hear you had a little interruption from Hurricane Molly," Phil says, after he's closed the door behind him.

"Hurricane Molly?" Skye echoes with a laugh.

"You wouldn't guess it now, but she had a wicked temper when we were kids. And a hell of a right hook to go with it," Phil tells her, sliding his hands into his pockets and not moving from his spot in the doorway.

"Yeah, we just talked for a bit. Sorry I didn't get through more of these files," Skye says, gesturing to the stacks still scattered around her.

"The files can wait," Phil answers. "Why don't you save it for tomorrow?"

"It's not a big deal, I can keep working," Skye says.

"You could," Phil agrees. He shrugs his shoulders. "But something tells me you'd do better with the rest of the day to yourself."

Skye has half a mind to protest, but really, he's not wrong. Right about now, curling up in bed and blocking everything out for a little while sounds a hell of a lot better than digging through all this paperwork. All these names and faces… she feels like she's stepping on people's graves.

"Are you ordering?" Skye wonders.

Phil hesitates a fraction of a second before his head dips in the barest of nods. "If I have to."

That's enough for her to give up whatever fight she had left. Not that there was much. For the first time since they'd arrived here, she notices just how tired she is. How much she aches. How heavy the weight of it all is.

She makes some vague effort at organizing the mess on the table, readying it for when she returns tomorrow, before she pushes away from the table and follows Phil out the door. They walk silently side-by-side down the hall. Phil doesn't seem to be in any hurry. Or maybe it's more appropriate to say he's slowed himself to match her pace.

Though he hadn't said anything, she has the nagging suspicion that Phil had something to do with Molly's visit. He's worried about her. But he has more than her to worry about. Which means she has to do a better job convincing him that there's nothing going on that needs to concern him.

"I'm going to be gone for a week or two," Phil announces as they round the corner.

"Where?" Skye asks, her head jerking up in surprise.

"I've got a few places I need to check out. A few safe houses that were never on the books," Phil says, looking contemplative. "The quicker I can get to our people, the better off we'll all be."

"And if they don't want to come back?" Skye wonders.

"Then they don't come back," Phil answers. "But either way, I'd like to know where everyone is. Even if they choose to walk away, if we know where they are—"

"Then we can look out for them," Skye finishes. "Protect them."

Phil's lips twitch upward in a pleased smile. "Right."

She wonders, though. Right now they're not in much of a position to be protecting themselves, let alone anyone else. Then again, that's probably the other point of adding numbers back to their ranks.

"May's going to be running point with me on this one, so while we're gone, Agent Hand is in charge," Phil informs her. "I'm hoping there won't be any problems."

"What, you expecting me to stir up trouble just because mom and dad aren't home?" Skye asks, her tone cheeky.

"It's not you in particular I'm concerned about," Phil replies, skating over her attempt at humor. "Don't think it's escaped my notice that there's been a certain level of… distance between certain parties here."

"You mean your old team and your new one," Skye interprets.

"…that's fair," Phil admits, though the terms place a distinctly uncomfortable look on his face. "In any case, I'm aware that it's an issue. I'm hoping that my absence will give each of you the chance to get to know one another better. I'm not asking for world peace, just a little understanding."

"Seems to me that I'm not the one who needs to be told to play nice," Skye remarks.

"And you're not the only one getting this speech. This is just a reminder," Phil says. "Just do your best."

He hesitates, like there's something else he wants to say, but as the silence stretches on, Skye knows that whatever it is he's holding back, it isn't coming. It's a tall order, asking them all to work together while he's away, but she's hoping it's not going to prove to be too much. Without Phil or Melinda around to mediate, she can see things going south real fast. By the time Phil says anything else, they've already reached her room.

"Skye."

She stops where she is, on the threshold between her room and the hallway. As she turns to face him, she sees him again on the verge of saying something. Again, he pushes it back down.

"If you make any headway with those files while I'm gone, let me know," he says.

She wants to needle him into saying whatever it is he really wants to say, but she knows it won't work. Besides, she figures it'd do her karma good to pay it forward—she hadn't been pressed to talk today either. So instead, she nods her head and offers him a quick smile.

"You got it, boss."

She closes the door behind her as he turns to leave before she crosses the room to her bed and flops down on top of it. A heavy sigh escapes her as she closes her eyes, trying to relax. But try as she might, it just won't leave her be. All the thigs Molly had said, the files she's been going through, thinking about… _him_ locked up downstairs.

Skye rolls over, her eyes cracking open. Her gym bag rests by the door way, directly in her line of sight. The ache in her knuckles reminds her that she had promised not to spend so much time with the bag.

To her credit, she debates with herself another five minutes before rolling out of bed and snatching her bag up from the floor.

No one ever got stronger by feeling sorry for themselves.


	3. Cacoethes

It's been two days since Phil and Melinda had left base. Phil had expressed a hope that there wouldn't be any in-fighting while they were away, but looking at things as they are now, Skye's not sure this is what he had in mind. The two groups are, if possible, even more isolated from each other than before the Director had left. No that there aren't outliers. Skye finds herself and Trip running into Andy more often than not, the two of them meeting her like they're enemy soldiers in the trenches. They trade information, status updates, secrets, like they're precious commodities. More often than not, it's done over food.

"What do you want in your omelet?" Andy asks, standing in front of the stove.

"Cheese," Skye declares, sitting on the adjacent counter.

"And?" Andy asks over her shoulder.

"More cheese," Skye tacks on.

"You're not gonna shit for a week," Andy teases. "Throw some roughage in there, girl. Trip, help me out here. Give me something to work with."

"Let's see. Cheese is nice," Trip says, scratching his chin in an exaggerated gesture of contemplation. "Hmm… how about some black beans, onions, salsa… little cilantro if you're feeling fancy."

"See? That's at least something I can work with," Andy praises him.

Skye rolls her eyes. "Jeez, fine, make me one of those then. You can never get something simple around here."

"I didn't binge watch all those seasons of Top Chef and Hell's Kitchen so I could stand here and make some lame ass cheese omelet," Andy declares.

"Extra cheese isn't lame," Skye says in her defense. "It's extreme. Go big or go home."

"Like I said, you're not gonna go at all if I put that much cheese in," Andy says.

"I've eaten a lot of cheese in my life," Sky advises her. "I know what my digestive tract can handle."

"Are we seriously making poop jokes now?" Trip asks with a disbelieving laugh.

"Rule 1: Poop's always funny," Skye says, shrugging her shoulders.

Alright, so, usually they horse around for a bit before getting down to more serious talk. They have to. Without the levity, to keep them afloat, Skye's sure they would all drown in this mess. For all Andy's teasing, she does as Skye asks and makes her one of the cheesiest omelets she's ever seen and by the time they've started eating, the conversation begins to shift to more business-like topics.

"I saw Fitz this morning," Andy says.

"How'd that go?" Trip wonders, carving off a bite of his omelet with his fork.

"He wasn't exactly what I'd call thrilled to see me," Andy admits. "Not that I blame him."

"Fitz is… I mean, you and Jemma are doing okay. He'll come around," Skye assures her. "He's got a lot to deal with right now."

"More important things," Andy agrees. "Heard you guys have been talking to Felix and Vic. How's that been going?"

"Hand's reasonable," Trip says.

"Blake is…" Skye says, her sentence petering out.

"He takes some getting used to," Andy agrees with a lopsided smile. "Socializing isn't exactly his favorite thing. If you need something, go to Vic first. She's good at delegating. Or mom. She's always willing to lend an ear."

"Speaks some damn fine French, your mom," Trip says approvingly. "Seriously. She'd probably even throw grandmere for a loop."

"Believe me, she loves having someone to exercise her linguistic prowess on besides Jasper," Andy says, seeming pleased by his words. She taps her fork on her plate, chewing thoughtfully. "Speaking of, have either of you spoken to him?"

"I think he grunted something at me when I said 'Hey' yesterday," Trip says, looking like he's grasping at straws.

"Let's put it this way, he's not in any hurry to talk to any of us," Skye says. "You'd think he got dragged here kicking and screaming."

"Well, sort of," Andy says, her nose wrinkling. "I mean, when I got to him he was still all… HYDRA-y."

"Okay, but he isn't now," Skye reminds her. "Some of us are actually making an effort here. He should be, too."

"He is," Andy says quickly. "I mean, he's trying. He's talking to Jemma, anyway."

"Maybe I'm wrong, but it seems like Jemma might be one of the only people he's talking to," Trip points. "And I'm including your side."

"It's delicate," Andy says with a shrug. "That's kind of what happens when you all keep secrets from each other like this. You'd think in the business of spies and secret agents we'd all learn not to take it personally, but here we are."

"Kind of hard not to take some of this stuff personally," Skye says. "But still, you can say he's making an effort all you want, but I'm not seeing it."

Andy blows out a harsh breath, stabbing her form into her food with more farce than is strictly necessary. "He's just like my dad. Something bad happens and they clam up tighter than Fort Goddamn Knox."

"So I'm gonna take that as a hint that Coulson hasn't been talking to you much," Trip guesses.

"No, but that's hardly different from before," Andy snorts. She shovels forkfuls of food into her mouth—enough to make Skye worry she's going to choke herself on it—before chewing in an agitated silence. She swallows, tapping her fork on her plate as she looks to her two companions. "I'm gonna try to give Jasper a nudge today. See if I can get him to do something other than stew in his own depression." She takes another few thoughtful bites before speaking again. "How's Jemma doing?"

"Well, you see her every day, don't you?" Trip reminds her. "And you guys at least seem to be on speaking terms."

"Yeah, but that's not the same as how she is with you guys," Andy says. "I can ask how she's doing, but there's only so much of an answer she'll give me."

"I think right now, having something to do, to keep her mind occupied, is doing her good," Trip replies. "It's not a long term solution to fixing anything, but for the time being, it's helping her get through."

"Yeah, I get that," Andy answers. She pushes her empty plate away to make space on the table for her forehead. She heaves an almighty sigh as her head makes contact with the surface of the table with an audible thunk. "You guys ever spend way too much time wishing this was all sorted out already?"

"Sure. I also spend time wishing for unicorns and reasonably priced internet access," Skye says with a snort. "But… yeah. Can't say I wouldn't like to fast-forward to the part where all the bumps are smoothed out."

"We could try a team dinner?" Trip supplies. "Try and at least get everyone in the same room?"

"Assuming everyone would actually show up," Skye points out.

"Okay, _mandatory_ team dinner," Trip says.

"Is that a thing?" Andy asks, looking up to rest her chin on the table and squinting suspiciously. "Can we do that?"

Trip shrugs a shoulder innocently. "Well, Coulson put Hand in charge while he's away. Couldn't hurt to suggest it to her."

"A mandatory team dinner, oh my god," Skye says, a puff of laughter escaping her. "You guys do realize that's a recipe for a food fight, right?"

"Better that than isolating ourselves to our rooms," Trip says. "I'm not saying it'll work or Hand will go for it, but it would at least get everyone in the same room. Maybe even talking."

"I like that idea," Andy declares.

"You like the idea of food," Skye says.

"That's true," Andy admits. "But I like this idea, too."

"So. Mandatory Team Dinner?" Trip poses.

"Mandatory Team Dinner it is," Skye agrees.

* * *

"Mandatory Team Dinner."

Admittedly, it sounds a lot dumber now that she's heard Victoria say it. But Skye's determined to be firm in her position. Sure it might sound dumb, but the idea has its merits. Plus, it's not like anyone else around here is coming up with ideas, right?

"I know, I know, it sounds stupid," Skye says quickly. "But it would at least be something other than a meeting that gets everyone in the same room, at the same table. It's something… right?"

"Well it's certainly something, I'll give you that," Victoria agrees. " _What_ exactly, I'm not sure."

Does everyone in this place have to be a comedian, Skye wonders? Maybe it's a pre-requisite for being an agent; adequate levels of snark and sass. She has half a mind to tell Victoria to forget the whole thing before the senior agent gives her a straight answer.

"It's not the most eloquent of solutions, but we don't exactly have the time to be eloquent," Victoria admits. She looks down at the tablet in her hands. "Or the budget, for that matter."

Come to think of it, Phil HAD tasked her with handling the finances, hadn't he? From what he's told Skye, Victoria had been applying to the FBI with her degree in forensic accounting before SHIELD had snatched her up, so she's the one to talk to about numbers. But with a statement like that, Skye's almost afraid to ask where their numbers are.

"So is that a 'yes' or a 'no'?" Skye presses.

"We'll put it at a tentative 'yes' for now," Victoria replies. "I'll make the arrangements, but I'm not about to blow up the base while Coulson and May are away. So if things cross a certain line, I'm shutting it down and sending everyone back to their separate corners."

"That's fair," Skye says, nodding her head as she mulls it over. "What kind of line are we talking?"

"Physical altercations, broken dishes, things like that," Victoria replies. She checks something on her tablet, slim fingers gliding elegantly over the surface before she raises her eyes to Skye once more. "Let's aim for tomorrow night. Seventeen-hundred hours."

"Five o'clock it is."

It hadn't been the resounding 'yes' she'd been hoping for, Skye reflects as she leaves the office, but it's on the books regardless and she's not going to complain.

* * *

"I still can't believe this is a thing we're actually doing," Skye tells Trip as she stacks another box on the dolly.

"Well, if no one's gonna play nice, we'll have to make them play nice," Trip responds, stacking a box beside hers. "No one's saying anything about it, but they know you're right. Now's not the time to be avoiding each other; no matter what's happened between us."

"I just hope it works," Skye sighs as they begin wheeling the dolly towards the lift. "As weird as it is to say, I think Coulson has to be gone to make this happen. If it's gonna happen at all."

"I can see that," Trip agrees, looking thoughtful as he jams his thumb in the lift door button. "Seems like there's a lot of… tension when it comes to the guy."

"You have such a way with understatements," Skye declares, batting her eyes at him.

Trip grins, flicking her nose for good measure. "Hey, I'm just backing you up here."

"Yeah, but have you talked to some of these guys? I kind of wonder if Coulson didn't make up some secret mission just to get away from everyone," Skye says, leaning against the supplies as the lift doors slide shut behind them. "It's gotta be a lot to take in."

"He talk to you about it?" Trip wonders.

Skye snorts. "Oh, sure, we sit on the couch with mugs of hot cocoa and talk for hours."

Trip shrugs. "Well, if he was gonna talk to someone, I'd just figure it'd be you."

"Yeah, that seems to be the popular opinion," Skye mutters.

Immediately she regrets having uttered it because once she has, Trip begins to give her that look. The one that means she'd better grab a seat and something to drink because she's going to be here a while. She doesn't really want to talk about this, but at the same time, she's been wanting to get it off her chest. Or at least share these thoughts with someone. Maybe she's just looking for someone to tell her that what she's thinking is crazy so she can get over it already.

"Something happen between you guys that I should know about?" Trip prods.

"Not exactly," Skye replies slowly. "It's just that I was talking to Hand recently and… well, she said I remind her a lot of Andy."

Trip frowns in thought as the lift doors slide open and they steer the dolly into the hallway. "Yeah, I can see what she means. Can I ask why that's a bad thing?"

"It's not. It's just… look, she started saying how she didn't think Coulson ever really forgot his kid and then she said she thought we were really similar and— "

"And you thought you might've just been a convenient way to fill a void," Trip surmises.

"Yeah," Skye admits, letting out a breath she'd managed to hold. "It's stupid. Isn't it? It sounds stupid. It's just that I don't think he did it on purpose or anything, but maybe, you know, it's true. Maybe I just reminded him of someone he subconsciously wanted there instead."

Skye expects him to brush it off, to roll his eyes and tell her she's overthinking it. But, as he so often has since they'd met, Trip manages to surprise her.

"Let's say you're right and the reason Coulson took a liking to you was because of this whole deal with his kid and Fury poking around in his head," Trip says, his tone indicating that he doesn't believe it in the slightest. "Even if that's true, it's not the reason you're here. You're a member of this team. You formed relationships with all these people that have nothing to do with who Coulson might have been looking for you to be. What you have with all of them, that's all you. They care about you. Just you. Just the way you are. Maybe I haven't been around you guys all that long, but even I can see that."

It's true, he hasn't been around them that long. An odd number of weeks ever since they'd wound up here. But despite that, Skye finds herself making sense of his observations and taking solace in them.

"Thanks," she says, he pace slow beside him. "I guess that all sounded kind of paranoid."

"I can understand it, though," Trip assures her. "Sometimes you think you know someone only to find you never really did at all. It's a scary thing."

"Did you think you knew Garrett?" Skye asks. The question pops up before she even has the time to consider whether or not it's appropriate to ask.

"Thought so," Trip said. "He was my SO. He seemed like a good guy. Looking back, I still can't say that he wasn't. But then with all this HYDRA mess… it's like two different people sharing the same face. That's how I wind up seeing it. It's hard to separate what I'd known him to be from what he actually was. Now, I know that's all on me; I know he was that guy all along. Maybe it's just hard to admit he was that good, so I rationalize it by separating him into two different people. Before and after."

"He was good to you, I take it," Skye guesses.

"He was," Trip agrees as they steer the dolly into the supply room. "He looked out for me. Taught me everything he knew. He was sort of like… that crazy uncle, always trying to keep things light. I still wonder if that was all an act or if he thought winning my loyalty would mean I'd join him."

"Like Ward," Skye snorts.

"Like Ward," Trip says with a nod. He shrugs. "All in all, it sucks. Everything that happened sucks. But I made the right choice."

Watching him begin to unload the supplies as she replays their conversation in her head, Skye can't help but agree.

* * *

Jemma Simmons has a lot on her plate. This is technically always true of her, but more-so as of late. And it all seems to keep piling higher, day after day.

Leo's fate weighs heaviest on her mind. When they'd been trapped down in that pod, sure that they were going to die, part of her had been… oddly at peace. If she had to die, doing so beside the person who meant the most to her was how she would have chosen to do so. But then he had gone and said those things; that he loved her, that he didn't want to live in a world without her in it. And he'd done the fool thing of…!

It's not that she's ungrateful. He had saved her life. It's just that he'd never considered, had he? That she might not want to live in a world without him, either. That she loved him as well. Not in the way he'd wanted, perhaps, but if such a thing as soulmates existed, then there would be no doubt in her mind that he was hers. Only now…

Now he won't even look at her. Even after he'd woken, even after she'd cared for him and sat at his bedside for weeks, praying he'd wake, he can't stand the sight of her. So much so that she'd reluctantly turned the entirely of his care over to Niles. Given that the man was a neurologist, perhaps it was for the best anyway. She tells herself to give it time, that Leo has been through something life-changing, that he's been damaged in ways that require patience. But it wounds her all the same, this distance.

So she tries to keep herself busy. The battery of tests she's created for Andy help with that somewhat. But even now, as she watches the other woman through the two-way glass, her mind is with Leo and Niles.

"Exactly what purpose does it serve having her beat the hell out of a punching bag?"

Jemma nearly jumps out of her skin at the sound of Jasper's voice behind her in the darkened observation room. Here, now, is yet another one of her problems. With a harsh sigh, she keeps her attention focused on her subject on the other side of the glass.

"Dr. Pendergraph and I are testing her limits," Jemma declares frostily. "Strength, stamina, speed… we're trying to get quantifiable numbers to better understand the ways in which the implant has altered her physiology."

"And you're doing that with a punching bag," Jasper observes, his tone flat as he joins her before the window.

Jemma can't help but feel a tad smug when Andy's next punch blows the bag right off its hinges, obliterating it in a shower of sand. Jasper's eyebrows rise comically as he watches her pull another bag from a waiting pile.

"I think it's proving to be a successful venture," Jemma says, making some notes on the tablet in her hands.

She can feel his eyes on her as she returns her attention to Andy's progress and steadfastly refuses to acknowledge him. He'll drop in like this every once in a while, making a few odd remarks before falling silent and, ultimately, leaving without having truly said anything. She expects it now, enough to tolerate it, but it does nothing to change the fact that she finds his unwillingness to talk further to be frustrating. He skulks around like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs, snapping at anyone who so much as reaches a hand out to him.

She loves him, despite all this. In spite of the things he'd done, she can't find it in her to rid herself of her feelings for him. And if he would bother to actually _talk_ to her, he might find forgiveness wasn't so far out of reach. The one conversation they'd had on the matter had left her disappointed. He'd explained his reasons, yes, but had he told her the whole truth? Had he apologized? It's his avoidance of the matter that's left her angry and hurt.

"Have you found anything yet?"

The question startles her. She'd expected his silence and eventual retreat, not more questions.

"In a manner of speaking," Jemma says. "It's rather complicated."

"Alright. In a manner of speaking, what have you found?" Jasper presses.

"As I said, it's— "

"Complicated, yeah, I heard you," Jasper cuts in. "I just want to know what's going on with my partner."

Jemma can't help the flare of bitter anger that arises within her at his answer. Of course, he doesn't actually want to talk, he just wants to know if Andy's alright. But as much as she wishes he would talk to her, she can't begrudge him that fact. Andy had been prepared to go through hell or high water to get Jasper back, so it's hardly surprising that he's concerned for her now.

"We'll need more time, but with what we have so far, we've been able to isolate a particular anomaly," Jemma replies, deft fingers flicking through the data she'd collected.

"What kind of anomaly?" Jasper asks, looking over her shoulder.

"There is a defined limit to how far Andy can exert her abilities. When she reaches that limit, a mandatory cooldown period ensues. This manifests in approximately twenty-four hours of sleep and a heightened caloric intake," Jemma explains.

"Right, I've seen that in action," Jasper says. "But what you're talking about, this anomaly, it's something different?"

"Dr. Pendergraph and I have been keeping meticulous records through the course of our tests and what we've found is that the implant's influence is inciting… change," Jemma says slowly. "Continual change. Each cooldown period seems to be a necessary function for the growth of her abilities. With each set of tests following one of these cool down periods, we've found that she is able to exceed previously recorded limits. It's slow change, yes, but it's steady. Each time we record, her strength is just that much greater, her stamina lasts just that much longer, she's just that much quicker… even when it comes to chemical and blood tests, her body is in a near-constant state of progression."

"So what does that mean in the long-term?" Jasper asks. "If she's constantly changing, what does she become?"

"We have no idea," Jemma sighs. "We don't have enough data to even begin to speculate what all of this means."

She hears Jasper blow out an aggravated breath just beside her. When she chances a look, she's surprised by the weight of the anger and despair pooled in his eyes as he stares through the glass.

"This never should have happened," he says, the words so quiet she barely catches him.

In spite of the bitterness between them, Jemma finds herself moved to console him, to assure him it will be alright.

"It's… She's alright, Jasper," Jemma says. "I know it sounds awful, but considering everything, she's doing fine."

"That doesn't erase the fact that it happened in the first place," Jasper says. He folds his arms over his chest and shakes his head. "None of us noticed. After Phil died, we thought she just needed space. We thought it was _good_ that John was back in her life. I should've seen it. She was my partner and it was my responsibility to protect her and instead… Even when I found out, I didn't do anything about it. I couldn't. Now look where we are."

The words are bitter, disgusted. From the moment Jemma had met him, Jasper had seemed nothing but put together. Now, she's sees the opposite. She sees him cracking at the edges, his patience frayed and his calm, cool exterior having abandoned him. The words he's just spoken are the most he's done to open up to her since he'd arrived here. Thinking this just might be her window of opportunity, she decides to press forward.

"Jasper," she says, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. "Would you just talk to me? I mean really, truly talk to me. None of this… head-hanging and self-pity. Just talk to me. Explain to me."

"I don't know what you want me to say. I made a mistake. I pursued you despite knowing that it would never end well, that I would hurt you, and I was right," Jasper answers matter-of-factly. "How am I supposed to apologize for that?"

"You could start by _actually trying_ ," Jemma blurts.

Jasper's eyes widen in shock, but she's found her momentum and she's not about to give it up now.

"You keep saying that it's something you can't apologize for but you've yet to actually apologize," Jemma informs him angrily. "Have you considered, at all, what I might want? That perhaps I _want_ to try to work this out? You just… you just gave up without even trying. I loved you and I trusted you and now you won't even spare me the decency of looking me in the eye."

She can see she's getting to him in the way his eyes begin to shine and the muscles in his jaw jump. Even that much is worrisome. When it comes right down to it, she has no idea what the extent of the things that had happened to him are, but it's clear as day that it's broken him. He just doesn't want to admit it. She's pushed him now in a way she'd avoided thus far and she's fair to certain doing so will mean pushing him further away from her. But yet again she finds herself surprised.

"I'm sorry," he says at length. The words are choked, strangled by emotion. "I'm sorry for… I don't even know where to begin. For lying to you. For putting you in danger. For keeping things from you. For refusing to talk to you. For fuck's sake, the things I did nearly got you and Fitz killed. I thought... I thought I could do what Fury had asked me to do and it would be alright and that the ends would justify the means once HYDRA had been eradicated. I thought I could do it. And if I wasn't able to complete my assignment, if I was found out or if HYDRA won, I knew that at least I could count on the fact that they'd kill me."

"What in god's name would that be worth? What would be the good in your death?" she demands.

"Because I staked _everything_ on this assignment," he answers fiercely. "The relationships with the people I cared for most, my reputation, my sanity, my safety and that of those around me. Putting all of that on the line and losing is as good as death. Everything that happened—Ward tossing Fitz into the ocean, John having Phil tortured, Felix having his spine broken, Fury nearly being killed by the Winter Soldier… I could go on for hours and the commonality to all of those events would be that they're on _my head_ because I failed and lived to tell about it."

The answer leaves her sick to her stomach. "So since you lived you decided to just… bury your head in the sand?"

"That's not what I'm doing," Jasper says defensively.

"It very much is," Jemma retorts. "You absolutely _refuse_ to speak to anyone aside from Director Coulson. Instead of trying to mend your relationships with others, you instead keep to yourself and bemoan the fact that you weren't killed. It's pathetic."

"Yes. It is," Jasper agrees.

"Don't do that. Don't just… parrot things back at me and agree as though you're receiving your due punishment," Jemma snaps at him. "Why can't you just try? Jasper, I love you and I care for you and I want to fix this but I need you to want to fix it, too. Why is that so difficult?"

"Because I don't deserve it!" Jasper nearly shouts at her. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, his chest heaving as anger overtakes him. "I gambled with people's lives and I lost. There's no room for redemption or forgiveness or happy endings in this story, Jemma, that's just not how it works."

"Stop it," Jemma says, setting her tablet down and stepping closer to him. "You have to stop doing this. If you really do care about me, about the others, isn't it worth trying?"

He shakes his head. "You deserve better. You deserve to be happy."

"I _was_ happy," Jemma tells him, feeling a traitorous lump rising in her throat. "I was happier than I'd ever been when I was with you. It's not your place to decide what I do and don't deserve. I waited for you. When Andy came to us and told me what had happened… I hoped and prayed that she would find you and that you'd be alive and that you would come back to me. Even though I was – am – so angry at you, I just… wanted you back. If you were alive, we could at least fix what was broken between us. But you won't even try and I need you to do that. If you love me at all, I need you to stop hiding from this and try."

His mouth is working as though there's something he wants to say, but after moments of silence, he can't seem to find the words. She knows what she's asking isn't easy, but if they can just start talking again, if he would open up to her… maybe they could make things right between them.

"How could you ever even consider forgiving me, let alone being with me?" Jasper asks hoarsely.

"Because when something's important to you, you fight for it," Jemma answers. "I'm angry. I'm hurt. But I'm not giving up and I won't allow you to either."

She can see that he wants to fight her on this, that he fully intended to continue to stew in his misery. But the things she's said have struck a chord in him. She knows this isn't simply the things he's done that are holding him back; it's the things that were done to him as well. She's not cruel enough to gloss that over and she knows PTSD when she sees it, but if this is going to work they need to break out of this stagnation.

"You're always so stubborn," Jasper says, shaking his head.

Relief spreads through her. Even with those simple words he sounds more like himself. He's willing to try.

"You said that's what you loved about me," she reminds him.

"It is," he responds.

Is, not was. It's something, however small. And when he turns to her, dark eyes focusing on hers in a way they haven't since before it all went to hell, she gives him her undivided attention.

"I'm sorry. I could say it a million times and it wouldn't be enough," Jasper says. "I've just…"

"I know," Jemma says, stepping closer into his space. "I know."

"I'm so sorry I hurt you," he says in a near whisper. His hands flitter in the space between them like skittish birds, as though he's afraid to touch her but desperately wants to. "I don't think there's any way I could possibly begin to fix this… but I'll try. I don't expect you to forgive me— "

"I do," Jemma interrupts him. "I forgive you."

"You can't," he says. "Not just like that— "

"Jasper," she says. "Shut up."

To his credit, he does. They have a long way to go, but hearing him say those things, knowing he's true to his word and that he'll work with her to fix this, she's more than willing to forgive. She reaches for him, pressing herself close and wrapping her arms around him. His muscles tense beneath her touch, but gradually she feels him relax as his arms come to encircle her. She's missed this, the feeling of his arms around her, the sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear. God, she has. But as they stand there, his grip on her grows too tight, his heartbeat too quick.

"What is it?" she asks quietly.

"I don't think I deserve to hold you," Jasper relates back to her. He laughs, the sound strained and anything but happy. "But I can't seem to let go."

"Then don't think about it," Jemma tells him. "We need to talk. We need to work things out. But for now, don't think about talking or what you have or haven't done. Just… stay."

He falls silent and she wonders if that's all he'll say on the matter. He breathes in deep and she thinks he might have said something if not for the chirping of an alarm to their left. Jemma jerks suddenly in his hold, knowing exactly what that sound is. Her eyes fly to the glass and her stomach drops at the sight that greets her. She knows Jasper sees it to, because they pull away from each other at the same time, making a break for the door.

Jemma's own breathing sounds too loud in her ears as they sprint towards Andy's crumpled form by the punching bag. Jasper reaches her first, dropping to his knees and rolling her onto her back. Jemma kneels at her other side, making note of the way the other woman's murmurs and the fluttering of her eyes. She's not unconscious, but she's hardly alert.

"This isn't what her cool down period was like when I saw it," Jasper says.

"That's because that's not what this is," Jemma tells him, pressing her fingers to Andy's neck. She shakes her head, not liking what she finds. "I need to transport her back to medical."

"I've got her," Jasper declares, moving to help Andy sit up.

Being in an upright position seems to rouse her as she blinks owlishly, trying to work her way back to full consciousness. Her body's taken on a ragdoll quality, her limbs loose and pliant as she makes no effort to fight Jasper's guiding hands. It's as he's moving to lift her that she manages to find her words.

"I'm fine," Andy mumbles, looking dazed. "Did we finish the test?"

"Done with tests for the day, Bambi," Jasper says indulgently.

Jemma assists Jasper in getting her onto his back and though Andy seems incapable of holding onto him, h carries her with little effort. The two of them walk together towards medical, Jemma quietly shushing Andy the entirety of the way as she continues to deliriously insist she's alright. It would be just their luck that as they round the corner towards the medical wing, they run into Niles. It takes him about the length of a heartbeat to decide something is very wrong before he comes hurtling towards them.

"What happened? I thought you were conducting the usual tests?" he asks Jemma.

"We were," Jemma assures him. "I'm not sure what went wrong."

"Nothing went wrong, I'm fine," Andy declares, making a valiant attempt at disentangling herself from Jasper.

"Why don't you let us decide that?" Niles says, laying a hand on her head. "Jasper, could you carry her over this way?"

Jemma sees Jasper nod firmly before they all move towards one of the many (thankfully) open beds. Jasper hovers as Jemma and Niles conduct their examination and while Jemma understands, she wishes he might give them a little more breathing room. Surprisingly, it doesn't take them as long to determine the problem as Jemma had assumed it would and the results make her blood boil. Doing her best to keep herself calm, she turns to Jasper with a task.

"I need you to bring Skye and Trip here please."

* * *

Skye had felt her spirits significantly lifted following her talk with Trip. But as she sees Jasper walking swiftly towards them, she can feel her mood souring again. He hardly looks to be in a good mood himself—and let's face it, he's not what she would call a ray of sunshine—and she wants no part of whatever's got him all hot and bothered. Unfortunately for her, he doesn't seem intent on allowing her to avoid him.

"I need you two to come with me," he says without preamble.

"Do we get a reason?" Skye wants to know, not budging from where she stands.

"Jemma needs your help in medical," Jasper responds.

Well, that's reason enough to get her moving. Trip hurries alongside her, both of them trying to match the senior agent's anxious, but restrained, pace.

"What happened?" Skye asks Jasper, any bad blood out the window with the looming threat of someone being hurt. "Who's hurt?"

"It's Andy and I have no idea," Jasper replies, scrubbing his face tiredly. "When I came in, she was hitting the bag. Jemma and I started talking. Then an alarm sounded on her tablet and when we looked, Andy was on the floor."

"Does this have to do with whatever tests they're conducting?" Trip asks.

"That was my first thought as well," Jasper replies. He frowns suddenly, as though something has just occurred to him. "But according to Jemma, this had never happened before. I get the impression that it _shouldn't_ have happened either."

"What does she want us there for?" Skye wonders.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Jasper answers. "But if I had to guess, I'd say she's trying to account for where Andy was and who she was with today."

So… what, Jemma thinks that it had been foul play? She can't imagine Jemma thinks anyone had _poisoned_ Andy, but maybe someone knows something that might give them an explanation. The three of them round the corner into the medical bay, intent on getting some solid answers. When a tight-lipped Jemma ushers them into the room, it's to the sight of Andy's sitting propped up in bed, awake but not looking particularly well – or pleased, for that matter—and Niles standing by with a particularly unhappy expression on his face.

"I understand the three of you had breakfast this morning," Jemma says, gesturing between Skye, Trip and Andy. She looks to Skye. "Would you mind telling me what each of you ate?"

"We all had an omelet," Skye answers. "Why, do you think it's food poisoning or something?"

"No, not food poisoning," Niles sighs.

"Just a single omelet each, then," Jemma presses.

"…yeah?" Skye answers slowly. "Is there… something I'm not getting here?"

Jemma ignores her in favor of pinning Andy with an authoritative glare. "And what else have you had to eat today, Agent Coulson?"

Andy sighs. "Enough."

"Really. So that's why you fainted due to malnutrition and dehydration?" Jemma demands.

"I just overdid it, okay?" Andy says, raising her hands peaceably in an attempt to calm the biochemist. "I'm eating just fine."

"Andy, we've been over this," Niles says, his tone patient but his expression tired. "You know you have to adjust your eating habits now that you're— "

"Now that I'm different. Yeah. I remember," Andy cuts him off.

"Hey. Yeah. Still lost over here," Skye says, waving a hand to get their attention. "Mind filling us in?"

"I've made it very clear to Agent Coulson on multiple occasions that due to the fact that her metabolism now operates at five times the normal human rate, her caloric intake must be adjusted to match. Apparently, she knows better."

"I'm not saying I know better," Andy corrects her. "I just thought that if I took it easy then I wouldn't _need_ to eat that much. SHIELD is just starting up again and we can't go using up supplies like that."

"It's not a matter of justification," Jemma says hotly. "It's a matter of taking care of yourself properly. Shall I assign you monitors then? To make sure you eat?"

"I don't need a babysitter," Andy huffs.

"I'm not convinced," Jemma declares.

"It's not exactly fun having to eat five times as much as everyone else does," Andy tells her. "And while people are still side-eyeing me like I might turn on them at any minute? Yeah, no, not fun. Look, I'm not doing this just because I don't want to, it's… I mean we're having a hard enough time securing supplies as it is and I'm worried I might contribute to us burning through them faster than we can get them."

Jemma looks fully prepared to argue the matter until she's blue in the face until Niles decides to bring the matter to a close.

"We'll talk more about this later," he declares. "For now, just get some rest while I figure out how to explain all this to your mother."

Andy pulls a face. "In that case, you're all invited to my funeral."

"Oh, stop it," Niles snorts. "She's not that bad."

"Remember that I like daisies," Andy says, lying back and closing her eyes all the same. "And I wanna be buried somewhere green."

"Go to sleep," Niles implores.

There's really no need, it seems, since she's already half-awake as it is. But once they're sure she's actually going to sleep, Niles and Jemma waste no time in pulling them all outside for an impromptu meeting.

"I wasn't joking about assigning her monitors," Jemma declares. "It might have been a mild case this time, but if this pattern continues, she could do serious damage. I won't have her compromising her health for something as ridiculous as pride."

"Pride's not ridiculous for Andy," Niles is quick to point out. "SHIELD means everything to her. If she thinks she's doing something to negatively impact it— "

"So we show her she isn't," Jasper declares. "Have Hand crunch the numbers, get a solid print out and show her we're in the green whether she eats enough for one of her or five of her."

"You know," Skye interjects, "we could also do something like, say, have a team dinner? I mean if we're all there eating, it might make her feel more comfortable with the idea."

"I think that's an excellent idea," Jemma declares. "It would do well to show the state of our supplies as well as serve to provide communal support."

"Great, I'll talk to Hand about it and see if we can get something going," Skye declares.

When Niles and Jemma eventually retreat in favor of taking care of their patient, Skye fully expects Jasper to fly the coop. But to her surprise, he lingers in the area and she's sure he's watching her. Her suspicions are confirmed when he finally speaks up.

"Well that conveniently played right into your hands," the senior agent remarks.

"Uh… what did?" Skye wants to know.

"Funny how you've been so adamant about getting everyone to buddy up and here this situation just lands in your lap," Jasper says.

Skye narrows her eyes, not liking his tone. "And, what, you think I had something to do with what happened?"

"No," Jasper says with a mild shrug. "Like I said it's just… convenient."

With that, he turns and walks off. Where he's heading and what he's going to do, she doesn't know or particularly care. Skye's eyes track him until he's out of sight as she mulls his words over. Yeah, it had technically worked in her favor, but what was his deal? She hadn't put the idea in Andy's head to starve herself. It's not as though she'd _wanted_ something like this to happen.

"I think he already knew about our dinner plans," Trip remarks.

"You're probably right," Skye agrees. She brushes her hair out of her eyes with a sigh. "But I guess expecting to keep secrets in a base full of spies is pretty stupid."

"Maybe a little stupid," Trip says with a smile.

Skye jabs him in the arm. "Hey, buddy, that means you're being a little stupid right along with me."

"Well, at least the company's good," Trip says with a wink.

* * *

It's late by the time Skye gets through her to-do list for the day. Pushing back from her desk, she stretches until her joints issue a satisfying pop and puts her work away for the night. She leaves her work station with every intention of heading straight to bed, but she finds her feet leading her on a slight detour.

The medical wing is dark for the night, lit only by the glow of necessary equipment and quiet apart from the gentle hums and soft beeps that accompany them. Well… that and what sounds like congested gasps for air. In a brief moment of panic, Skye wonders if Andy's condition is worse than they'd thought and hurries towards the room Jemma had placed her in.

When she reaches the door, instead of the horrific medical nightmare she'd been expecting, she's greeted by the sight of the freckled woman sitting up in bed, her lap monopolized by a large, roly-poly bulldog. The dog's jaws hang open in an approximation of a grin, his tongue lolling out the side as he snorts happily, seemingly enthused by her sudden appearance. Well, at least it explains the noise.

"You're up late," Andy remarks.

"Actually, I was just heading to bed and thought I'd-… Okay, I've gotta ask, where the hell did the dog come from?" Skye wonders, stepping inside the room.

"You mean you haven't met Baxter yet?" Andy wonders. "I'm surprised. Usually he loves visiting people."

"He's yours?" Skye asks, holding hand out for the dog to sniff.

"No, no, no. Baxter is Jasper's baby," Andy says with a laugh. She gathers the dog's jowls in her hands, smooshing his face as she presses a kiss to his nose. "I'm just Auntie Andy, isn't that right?"

"Sitwell's dog, huh?" Skye murmurs, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Come on, Skye," Andy says, scratching the dog's ears. "Jasper's been better lately. I'm sure your mandatory team dinner plan will work just fine."

Skye resists the urge to scream. Does _everyone_ know about this? "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hey, I think it's a great idea," Andy assures her. "Mostly."

"I'm guessing since you know about it, you also know about the part where we decided it might make you feel better," Skye guesses.

She can tell by the look on the other woman's face that the answer is yes. Strangely, though, she doesn't seem offended. Instead of the defensive, stubborn attitude Skye had seen from her earlier, she's smiling gently, seemingly content to sit and pet the dog in her lap.

"Yeah, I know about it. And I appreciate the sentiment, even if it isn't necessary," Andy replies. She shrugs sheepishly. "I know what I did was stupid. I knew what would happen, but I did it anyway because I thought the ends would justify the means. I won't be doing it again. Partially because I swore a blood oath to Jemma and Niles and mum made me swear on my Nan's grave."

Skye snorts at the joke. She wonders if it's something Andy had picked up from Phil; that tendency to off-set serious situations with humor and horrific puns. If it is, it's not the only thing she'd learned from her father.

"You mentioned earlier that you noticed people around the base treating you differently," Skye remarks. "It sounded like it bothered you."

"You seem surprised," Andy says.

"Kind of? I mean, we don't know each other all that well yet, but you seem so…"

"Annoyingly optimistic?" Andy supplies with a cheeky grin.

"Sometimes, yeah," Skye agrees with a laugh. "It's just weird how I can see it in everyone else, you know, how all of this has affected them. But you don't come across the same way. You seem like everything's fine."

"It is. Mostly," Andy says. She considers her own words, frowning thoughtfully. "Or better than it was, anyway."

"So basically you have a talent for compartmentalizing, is what you're saying," Skye says. "Or should I say 'not saying'?"

"Yeah, but pretty much everyone at SHIELD has a talent for that," Andy is quick to point out. "Actually, when it comes to talking things out, I'd say I'm one of the more verbose out of everyone who's left."

"In some ways," Skye says. "Being more willing to talk to the rest of us than the rest of the old guard doesn't mean you're _saying_ anything more than they are."

"Ooh, Skye, how observant," Andy crows, looking delighted by her statement. "You know, every time we talk I find myself saying that I can see why dad likes you. You're not the type to pull punches. That's good. I like that."

"That might be flattering if it wasn't just an attempt to talk me in circles," Skye points out.

"Hey, not 'just,'" Andy corrects her. "I really do mean that. Although, yeah, I was definitely trying to talk you in circles."

Skye can't help but think this all goes to prove her point. Throughout this conversation, the other woman has remained friendly and upbeat, willingly admitting when Skye is right or when she's been caught in a half-truth. That's what makes her so difficult for Skye to pin down. She's sure there are things bothering Andy—likely a great deal of things, given current events—but apart from the incident earlier in the day, she'd be hard-pressed to come up with any evidence of that fact.

Even when they'd first met, when Andy had come to them on hand-and-knees, asking them to give her time to find Jasper, she'd remained bizarrely… put-together. She'd come across as driven, yes, frustrated with her circumstances, definitely, but never down and out.

"So why is it so important to act like nothing bothers you?" Skye presses. She sits at the foot of the bed, strangely determined to get something out of her.

Andy shrugs, scratching Baxter's belly. "I'm not really acting. Stuff does bother me. This thing on my back, the situation with my dad, what Jasper went through, what happened to all of you… but I also know I can't change any of it. It already happened and there's no going back. So I've just gotta roll with it."

"And that's what this is; rolling with it," Skye says slowly.

"As best I can," Andy replies. "Besides, if anyone's acting like nothing's bothering them, that'd be you."

"Me?" Skye echoes. "Why me?"

"Uhhhhhh because most people don't beat the shit out of a punching bag until their knuckles bleed for the laughs," Andy drawls.

"Look, not all of us went to fancy SHIELD Hogwarts," Skye snorts. "I've got a lot of catching up to do with training."

"And this has nothing to do with Grant?" Andy wonders.

"Why does everyone assume all my problems begin and end with Grant Ward?" Skye wants to know, rolling her eyes.

"You don't wanna talk about it, that's cool," Andy says, lifting her hands peaceably. "But if you're interested in training, we should spar sometime."

"Yeah, I've seen what you do to punching bags so… no thanks," Skye replies. "I like all my bones where they are and in one piece."

"Pfft, baby," Andy teases.

"So this is where you got to."

Skye's not sure why the sound of Jasper's voice makes her feel like she should feel guilty for being found sitting on the edge of Andy's bed. She's fairly certain she knows why it makes her feel like hitting those punching bags they were just talking about, though.

"He was just visiting," Andy says as Jasper steps in the room. "Because he actually cares about me."

"I carried you here on my back," Jasper retorts. His tone sounds flat to Skye, yet she can't help but read him as being amused. Still, she tenses when he turns his gaze to her. "Besides, it looks like you've already got company."

"I wasn't staying," Skye says, already rising from where she was seated. She has no intention of hanging around if he does, too.

Andy looks up at her and, for a moment, Skye thinks she's about to ask her to stay. But a look passes over the freckled woman's face, smoothing her features into something like understanding before she nods and offers up a lopsided smile.

"Yeah, you said you were on your way to bed, right?" Andy asks. "Thanks for checking in, though. And I'm serious; as soon as they let me out of here, I expect a sparring match."

"So what you're saying is that I should find some way to bribe Jemma into keeping you here forever."

"Probably."

"Right," Skye says with a huff of laughter. "Well… goodnight."

Andy offers her a little wave in return. If Jasper had been inclined to say anything, Skye doesn't bother sticking around long enough to find out. From there, she makes a beeline straight for her room, realizing just how tired she is now that she's not wrapped up in conversation.

Quickly changing into sleepwear, she slips into bed and douses the lights with a satisfied sigh. Lying in the dark and quiet, despite her fatigue, she finds her mind still at work. Really, she can't help but analyze every bit of today's happenings, looking for connections and planning for the day ahead.

This team dinner they've decided on has a lot riding on it and as much as she'd been in favor of it, she has to wonder if it's really going to work. There are just so many differences between them, so many problems and grievances that need to be ironed out. For example, the fact that she couldn't stand so much as being in the same room as Jasper. How can she expect everyone to get along when she herself is having difficulty doing that very thing? When it comes down to it, though, it's just him, isn't it? Sure Felix is grumpy and Victoria isn't her best friend ever, but at the very least, Skye's connected with them on some level. Molly and Niles have been open and inviting, so there's been no problem there.

It's just… him. All the things he did and didn't do and how that lead to where they are now; she just can't reconcile them with the fact that he doesn't really seem all that sorry to her. And he should be. He should be apologetic towards all of them, but Jemma most of all.

Skye hopes to never have to see Jemma as heartbroken as she'd been when they'd gotten the news about Jasper. Maybe it's not her place to pry into what's currently going on between them, but Jemma's her friend. Hell, Jemma's her _family_. She has every right to feel protective of her and given the way Jasper had hurt her, Skye's not feeling particularly bad for giving him the cold shoulder.

Still… it's not exactly helping the cause, is it?

It's kind of a lot to ask to change overnight, but if she's asking everyone else to make an effort, she'll have to do the same. Sighing, she rolls over, determined to get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long day, she knows, and not just because of dinner preparations.


End file.
